


The Knight and The Gladiator

by EbonyAura



Series: MEGOP WEEK 2020 [3]
Category: Transformers (Bay Movies), Transformers: Prime
Genre: #megopweek2020, Angst with a Happy Ending, Dimension Travel, Flashbacks, HAPPY MEGOP WEEK, M/M, Mental Breakdown, Panic, Past Character Death, continuity crossover, mentions of a gladiator's code of honor (if they ever had one), mentions of a knight's code of honor, somebody get poor tlk optimus some ice cream
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-09
Updated: 2020-01-09
Packaged: 2021-02-25 02:41:47
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,951
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22008637
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EbonyAura/pseuds/EbonyAura
Summary: HAPPY MEGOP WEEK!Day 6: Continuity CrossoverOptimus wasn't having a good week to begin with. Falling through a universal portal and meeting another version of himself and Megatron didn't make it any better. But this other Megatron is proving to be a mech unlike anything his brother had ever been.
Relationships: Megatron/Optimus Prime
Series: MEGOP WEEK 2020 [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1583281
Comments: 10
Kudos: 149
Collections: MegOP Week 2020





	The Knight and The Gladiator

**Author's Note:**

> I'm posting this a day early because I will not have time on the actual day this theme commences
> 
> I knew this idea was probably going to be terrible, but I ran with it anyway. 
> 
> Bayverse OP has been having a really shitty week (not surprising, really, f**k you Micheal Bay), fell into the Prime universe, met all those characters, and is on the verge of a breakdown the whole time he's there. Megatron (Primeverse, not Bayverse cause Bayverse Megs is dead here) met OP and kinda fell in love with him at first glance (how could he not? those pectoral plates are thicc) and decided "I want to bring this angry bot and his minions home with me." 
> 
> I don't own the characters. Please don't kill me for this. Have a nice day.

Optimus removed his sword from its sheath on his backplates, propping it up next to him and then leaning back against the wall. He sighed, offlining his optics and letting his helm rest on the cold metal.  
  
What a fragged up week this had turned out to be. And in consideration of the week he’d returned to a dying Cybertron, Quintessa took over his processor, and nearly forced him to murder Bumblebee, this was just as scary, and a whole lot weirder.  
  
With the war against the Decepticons recently ended following Cybertron’s attachment to Earth, mecha of both factions were returning to the fragments to salvage and rebuild. It was no small relief, but he was in no place to ponder it as the remaining leader of the planet's war-torn refugees. He was usually seen alternating between the two planets at least a couple times a week to help Cybertronians off Earth or negotiating with human national leaders. Neither of which were pleasant in the first place, but he was better off reasoning with a rogue Decepticon to come home than making it clear to the humans that they wanted to be left alone.  
  
What made it all the better was the events of about six days ago. He’d been aiding other survivors to restructure habitat complexes in a fallen city on one of the fragments. On the edge of a broken roadway twisted and pointed towards the oblivion of space, he’d noticed something green glowing in the edge of his line of sight. Thinking it to be Quintessa returned or some leftover anomaly of her magic, he’d gone to investigate immediately, only to be sucked into what he now knew was a portal.  
  
With a tumble through, he’d landed in an open field near a local settlement which he soon identified as the memorable state of Texas. Confused as to how he’d returned to Earth, he’d originally decided to find Cade Yeager’s farm. Whether it was to avoid contact with unwanted human leaders again or attempt to find some source of familiarity before leaving, he was undecided. It seemed to be a mixture of both according to his decision processing threads. Unfortunately, a band of law enforcement officers who'd thought he was speeding chased him all the way there... to a rackety old shack. He did not remember it being so broken down but was unwilling to question an actual hiding place until they passed.  
  
That’s when he discovered the Autobot team, and their leader, Optimus Prime. Such a bewildering phenomenon was followed shortly after by Lord Megatron and his Decepticons. Now he knew that the concept of multiple universes, _and_ parallel lives existed. Well, somewhat at least. This Prime still had Ratchet and was much nicer as a mech than he ever was. And this Megatron… while he'd seemed as crazy as his own brother, his temperament had calmed down considerably. Enough to actually agree to a ceasefire until this whole mess of two Primes in one universe was sorted out.

That, and he would _not_ stop giving him these odd, indecipherable looks.  
  
The entirety of it was overwhelming and had given him massive processor aches and mood swings. He could only be thankful that the other Prime was usually quick to see when he was at the end of his tether and show him out of their temporary base’s main area away from the rest of the mecha. He knew if he took one more glance at the Autobot team, or listened to the medic’s voice again, he would’ve collapsed. Perhaps also broken down into sobs. Primus knows the past few years had taken too many dear friends and the past few days stole what was left of his dignity. When the Prime showed him where the training room was, Optimus knew he would return there frequently. It was quiet, peaceful, as if the world had come to a standstill in it, and he took refuge in its pause.  
  
There was so much at stake now. With his disappearance, for however long he would still be here, Bumblebee would have to resume command. There were many who did not respect Bumblebee’s position of authority there, even at his side. Crosshairs and Drift, for example, who followed Optimus, and Optimus alone. If they and the other survivors did not follow Bumblebee’s lead, the mecha back on Cybertron’s fragments were more than likely to begin fighting again. And after finally achieving some semblance of peace after the war that had destroyed so much… Optimus couldn’t bear anymore fighting or death. It was just too much.  
  
Then there were the humans.  
  
Optimus thought back to the days before this one, when the Autobot team’s human liaison agent had entered the base with a shout, and his processor’s panic response had gone erratic. He’d pulled his weapon on the human multiple times before he knew what he was doing, and it usually took the other Prime about ten minutes to reassure him of the human’s alliance before he eased out of his battle stance. All the bots still present in the main area constantly side-eyed him after that. Old habits die hard, he supposed, and being chased by the law enforcement humans after he’d arrived hadn’t helped. Even the three children spooked him. The girl asked too many questions in an excitement that was borderline psychotic, and the boy named Jack reminded him too much of Sam Witwicky. Whether the looks he’d received from the mechs at his reactions were wariness, fearful curiosity, or sympathy, he didn’t care. He knew what he looked like and he couldn’t change it.  
  
The humans on _his_ planet Earth, who were the reason behind his ingrained fears, would immediately turn on his fellow Cybertronians in his disappearance. Granted, they couldn’t launch full scale space attacks like the Decepticons once could. But with Cybertron’s fragments so close to Earth’s surface and its survivors uncoordinated, they could easily launch aerial fleets or nuclear missiles to destroy them and render them uninhabitable. It did not matter how many times his kind sacrificed themselves for them and their planet, they would always fear them, and their governments were always just a breath away from declaring war against his people.  
  
Didn’t they know that such drastic measures would destroy them as well? Of course they did. Human politicians just didn’t care, and such was the reason their planet had so many problems.  
  
Now that he meditated on it, this planet Earth was probably the same way, and he was getting _another_ helm ache just thinking about that conclusion.  
  
He sighed again. This really was a fragged up week. And it was only going to get worse from here, if his instincts were to be believed. These days, his instincts were usually right.  
  
Ped steps trudged down the hallway outside the training room. Optimus instantly jerked upright with wide optics, servos on his sword without a second thought and audial trained on the incoming steps. Their echo told him they belonged to a large mech, roughly his size. The spacing between each trudge told him the walker had a slow gait, but longer leg struts to make up for it. Listening closer, his experience in creating pictures with sound painted a front-heavy mech with a swinging gait, in control of their every movement.  
  
He knew those steps, even from the memory of a dead mech a universe away.  
  
Pretending to be busy checking the sharpness of the two-sided blade, Optimus still kept a careful watch out of the corner of his optic when the Decepticon warlord ambled into the room. The silver mech’s expression was neutral, but his crimson optics watched him piercingly. Optimus knew his act wasn’t fooling him, but he continued anyway, his digits running over the metal as he glanced at the virtuous glyphs decorating it.  
  
“What do you want, Megatron?”  
  
He spoke the name with a curled tone, unused to giving it to a stranger, but aware that this stranger was quite alike to his brother. The silver mech paused in his steps, watching him with an expression akin to curiosity. After a moment, he nodded to the sword in Optimus’s servos.  
  
“That is an exceptional weapon you hold.”  
  
Unsure of the direction the silver mech was going with the statement, Optimus’s brows creased in the slightest. Pulling his digits away from the blade, he lifted it up to the light, optics tracing the golden rim it took on.  
  
“Many would say otherwise.”  
  
The Prime rumbled in reply. Megatron huffed lowly, peds shifting forward as he moved again.  
  
“ _Soldiers_ would say otherwise. They only find value in the gun and its bullets… But a gladiator—”  
  
Optimus caught the slight shift in the clawed servo and knew what was coming before the words reached his audials. Pulling the sword back to shoulder level, he spun on light peds to block the advancing blade of the warlord. Metal clashed on metal, ringing out into the room. He met other’s gaze with a cold, hardened glare, his roiling EM field retreating into his frame and dissipating into the illusion of detachment.  
  
Megatron advanced no further. Crimson optics were bright, showing the energy and thrill that he took from just a moment of battle. Or, at least, that’s what Optimus had come to know about his brother and expected from any other like him. This Decepticon, however, did not follow the normal succession to snarl and aim for a second stroke, only shed a small smirk.  
  
“—a gladiator would hold any weapon forged of iron and fire in high contempt. Especially when it suits them so well.”  
  
The silver mech took a small step back and his blade retreated back into his arm strut. Optimus watched him retreat with a suspicious glare, his sword-wielding arm slowly falling to his side.  
  
“I am no gladiator.”  
  
He grumbled warningly. The Decepticon’s smirk faded and he granted the Prime a small nod of affirmation.  
  
“Perhaps not. But I once was, and I’ve seen enough to conclude you are something not so dissimilar from it.”  
  
Optimus carefully didn’t react. It was a fair point that a knight would share qualities with a gladiator. Their styles of fighting corresponded along with their choice of weapons. Their codes of loyalty and honor to one another held close resemblances. Yet where knights were classified as honored explorers, gladiators were classified as arena conquerors. And where knights were reveled in a sort of royalty as guardians, gladiators were oppressed as non-sentient slaves and war machines. It was clear to the Prime how Megatron’s identity caused him to fall so low in this universe, just as he acknowledged how his identity raised him up in his. But he was not about to agree in spoken word that their basic coding was so comparable.  
  
Deciding to hold fast to his direct route, he placed his sword in front of him blade down, and subtly rolled his shoulders back. Feeling the curled armor guards above them shift with soft clinks, he grasped both sides of the weapon’s cross-guard in each servo.  
  
“What do you want from me?”  
  
A short silence ensued, accompanied by Megatron eyeing him in what looked like interest. But Optimus couldn’t be sure of the more subtle facial cues from this one. While there were basic features that had stayed the same, the crimson of his optics and the silver shine of his armor, this Decepticon looked completely different from the one he’d known. This one’s faceplate was flat, and his show of expressions was simultaneously easier and more difficult to distinguish. Finally he answered, apparently deciding to follow Optimus’s lead and be direct.  
  
“You fear the humans. Why?”  
  
Optimus knew his frame’s sudden stiffness was visible. He did not expect for the question to unsettle him so much. But the training room faded and gave way to the image of Ratchet’s severed faceplates being melted down by human torches. Shifting then to the ambush that led to being blown apart by missiles and running for his life, preying to his dying god that the other Autobots survived. Reality resurfaced with a snap and he abruptly looked away from the Decepticon to hide his grimace.  
  
“That is none of your concern.”  
  
He snapped. Megatron seemed to hesitate out of his line of vision before taking a small step closer, which did nothing to ease his flaring spark.  
  
“No, it is not. But I would think any Optimus Prime akin to the one I know would find goodness in the fleshlings. Or, at the least, a reason to defend them. You, however, have found neither, and instead react to them as any Autobot would a Decepticon. It is a confounding observation for me, as you might imagine, and I would like to know why your beliefs are different.”  
  
Out of view of the gladiator, Optimus blinked, openly surprised and debating whether or not to be insulted by Megatron’s accusation of his dwindled faith in another sentient species. Then again, should he really be so shocked? His brother had always known him best, was the first to notice his behavioral changes no matter how small, and he was right. The Prime of this universe was clearly defensive of humanity, and even liked them as he once did. Megatron had every right to find him strange.  
  
“… My Autobots allied with the human race once,” he ground out, his servos tightening around each end of the cross-guard. “they betrayed us.”  
  
It was Megatron’s turn to blink, taken off-guard by what he heard. Optimus examined the other from the corner of his optic once more as the Decepticon processed what he was told. Then, Megatron hummed gruffly, crossing his arms loosely over his chest plates.  
  
“An action I am not surprised fleshlings of any variation would take.”  
  
He spat, unsurprisingly to the Prime, then exhaled incredulously.  
  
“You wish to return to such a universe where your precious humans have turned against you?”  
  
This time, indignant offense roiled in his fuel lines. His helm jerked back towards the Decepticon and he pierced him with an icy glare.  
  
“It is where I belong,” he countered, and though he wasn’t yelling his voice still resonated amidst the entire room. “The remnants of my home and my people reside there. I will not abandon them.”  
  
His voice was thick with resolve. He’d almost let the word ‘again’ slip onto the edge of his statement, but with the long story that came with it, and the already inquisitive gleam in the tyrant’s optics, he cut it off. There was too much at risk, too many questions unanswered with what he’d already let slip lately.  
  
“Would you not want to reside here?”  
  
The question almost passed him by. Megatron had rarely ever spoken below a thunderous rasp in his universe, and he was inclined to believe this Decepticon was the same. So to hear him speak in hushed tones shocked him before the question even reached his audials. His glare dissipated, and his sneer fell away.  
  
“What?”  
  
Megatron’s optics were bright, but the curiosity in them had recoiled out of view. Something else resided in them that Optimus did not know how to place. They deceived his frame, which attempted to appear nonchalant about what he’d said.  
  
“You’ve been here long enough to see that we are not an illusion or a trick. Unicron has been put back to rest, and there are no creators in this galaxy who put a price on your helm. As for the humans… well, I’ve never held any regard or faith for the humans your counterpart protects, as I am sure you already know.”  
  
He did and he also knew that the Decepticon was stating his feelings on the matter lightly.  
  
“But I find it unlikely that these humans will obtain a reason to turn against Autobots or neutrals anytime soon. Not as long as I remain to threaten their existence, and your counterpart continues to sacrifice himself and the lives of his team for their benefit.”  
  
The begrudged end comment was not technically aimed at him, but it still stung. And if that was supposed to quell his fears etched by humanity, it did nothing. He found both irritating. Optimus’s expression fell flat as he stared at the warlord, digits itching to take up his sword and whack off this annoying mech’s head.  
  
“You’re suggesting I would want to desert the last survivors of my people _mere_ _months_ after our war has ended to rejoin the same one against you in _your_ universe?”  
  
The Prime growled. Megatron narrowed his gaze and retorted with just as much power.  
  
“I’m suggesting the consideration of a planet for you that is _whole_. From what I’ve already heard, your life up to this point have been absolute _pit!_ Don’t you desire a planet without inhabitants nearby that abhor you and that can fit your survivors into more than mere fragments?!”  
  
Oh, that hit a nerve. Something in the back of his processor told him that it wasn’t actually meant to anger him, but hearing it said out loud only served to rile his legendary temper. His optics began to burn, and he lifted his sword from the ground to point it accusingly at the warlord.  
  
“You think I don’t resent that my planet will forever reside beside humans?! That I don’t wish my people could live the rest of their lives _anywhere_ but on the shattered pieces of their home?!”  
  
“Then _listen_ to me and take your chance to get out of a universe where you’re damned to annihilation by fleshlings! Come to _my_ Cybertron, bring your survivors _here!”_  
  
All the anger abruptly dissipated from his spark, leaving in its wake numb shock. His sword and arm wavered back to his side. Megatron… of all the mecha in this or any universe… had just given him the possibility of _sanctuary?_ A home for the stragglers of a _Prime_ on _his_ planet? He barely even knew him! How could the mech let his pride go so much that he would consider this?!  
  
“You… your…”  
  
It felt like his voice had been stolen from him, and he could barely breathe out words. Megatron’s optics lost none of their strange brightness, but his fists had already loosened, and his expression had fallen into something serious. It felt like honesty, a trait Megatron should not have been known for in any universe. But here it was out in the open.  
  
Maybe it was only right that he be truthful about the ache growing behind his chest plates too.  
  
“I can’t…” he breathed, “They’ve sacrificed too much for the peace we hold. I can’t bring them into this war again.”  
  
Megatron watched him for another moment before letting go of the most imperceptible sigh he’d ever seen either Megatron give. The warlord this time crossed his arms behind his back.  
  
“Well, if you were any other mech, I would suggest you simply wait until the portal was created and I defeated your counterpart. With Cybertron under my control, we could’ve easily facilitated it without any need for more battles.”  
  
Optimus’s expression fell flat again. Megatron, however, wasn’t finished.  
  
“But you are Optimus Prime. And if I know anything about the Prime I’ve fought for the past four million years, it’s that _my_ _way_ will not garner your favor. So perhaps it is time for a new path. After all, we have already declared a ceasefire.”  
  
The thin line of his lip plates slackened, and he stared at the Decepticon. The sword almost slipped from his digits again, and his EM field released itself from his hold, broadcasting the storm building in his spark.  
  
“From there, we only have to collaborate our resources. Both of our factions have worked towards the same goal for months now. Artifacts launched from the city of Iacon are being unearthed, the Iaconian database we’ve discovered has much more to be translated, and your counterpart knows as well as I that these may lead to the cusp of our salvation… One of the artifacts may just be the key to reviving Cybertron. If that is indeed the case, and the medic is able to remake the portal; well, I would be honored to welcome you and your people home.”  
  
Optimus’s processor felt like it was spinning. Launched artifacts? The Iaconian database? None of it made any sense. But what made _less_ sense is that Megatron was explaining all of this to him. He was revealing their plans openly and not gloating when all hope was lost. Not proclaiming that this was his victory. _He was offering peace…_  
  
His processor short-circuited, then his leg joints shook and gave way. He stumbled on wobbly peds, slamming his sword to the floor in front of him to stay upright. It was too much. Was this a hallucination? Had he finally lost what was left of his sanity? Megatron’s crimson optics went wide and he stepped forward quickly, servos held out to steady him.  
  
“Optimus are you—”  
  
“Why are you doing this?” he whispered, his blue optics charged and desperate as they searched the silver mech’s strange face for an answer. “What do you have to gain? Why are you willing to help me?”  
  
Megatron was silent for a long minute, his arms still hovering around him, and the Prime would’ve attempted to get out of the reach if he wasn’t still reeling. He searched those crimson optics, finding nothing but a gaze that seemed to be searching his in return. When the minute ended, the side of the Decepticon’s lip plate quirked up into a small, one-sided, but genuine grin.  
  
“I have nothing to gain, but a reminder from you of who I was, and who I should strive to be.”  
  
Slowly, the silver mech’s servos rested on his forearms, curling under them and pulling upward to help him back to his full height. Optimus flinched, but let him assist.  
  
“You are a knight. I am a gladiator. Your code, like mine, commands you to defend the helpless and be without fear. You, like me, have strayed from your code. You are fearful, and I have harmed the innocent… But you hold to your oath even after the damage is done. You face your fears every day, refusing to let them stop you. You see your flaws of oath, and you seek redemption for them, Optimus, something I have not done.”  
  
Megatron let go and his silver claws fell to his sides. Crimson optics averted to the floor.  
  
“I don’t know what the Decepticons used to be in your universe, but mine once defended the helpless. _I_ once defended them… I have strayed far, I know, your counterpart and my TIC reminds me of it often. I never heeded their advice. Yet here you have arrived by an improbable chance and show there exists an Optimus Prime who understands the warrior’s code.”  
  
With the steady servo the Prime did not have, Megatron took up the longsword from where it leaned into the ground. He looked up, and Optimus saw a glint of his long lost brother in those earnest optics, offering the weapon back to its handler.  
  
“Perhaps if I do the right thing now, while I still have the chance, I can strive to be someone like you, and save you from becoming someone like me.”  
  
Optimus Prime took up his weapon, his optics scanning over the virtuous glyphs in its blade before flipping it up to its sheath on his back. For the first time in a very long time, he smiled at another mech.  
  
Maybe this time, his instincts could be wrong, and the week might turn out alright.

**Author's Note:**

> OP this mech has been low-key flirting with you the entire time-NOW HE JUST PROPOSED TO YOU DUDE SAY YES STOP BEING SO NAIVE... wait no don't faint god damn it-
> 
> This may be a horrible concept, but I love it I could write a series off this and no one could stop me


End file.
